Cathy’s chair scraped slightly as she shied away, ‘Do you know something about this?’
‘I heard…I heard something last night. I was in a motel. Oh
God.’
‘What did you hear?’ Sarah’s hand was frozen on a carton of milk.
‘Something horrible.’ Fiona stood up and hurried back to the office.
Hazel was writing Fiona’s name at the top of some sort of form. She looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I need to use your phone. Please.’
‘Of course. Here.’ Quickly she evacuated her seat. ‘Are you
OK?’
‘I just have to. . ’ The sentence was left unfinished as she began dialling a number. ‘Janine, it’s Fiona. Is Alice there?’
‘Fiona! We tried your home number and mobile when you didn’t come in this morning. Everything OK?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Just put Alice on, will you?’
‘OK. She’s just finishing with a customer. Wait a second.’ Fiona kept her head down, discouraging any questions from
Hazel who was hovering at the door.
‘Hi, Fiona. How are you?’
‘Alice, your other half. Jon. He’s in the police, right? Quite high up?’
‘Yes, he works on major incidents. What’s wrong?’
‘Listen, I need to speak to him. It’s about this Butcher of Belle
Vue thing.’
Chapter 6
They had just pulled up in the car park of Longsight police station when Jon’s mobile began a stifled warble in his pocket.
He glanced at the caller’s identity and was surprised to see Alice’s name. She always tried to avoid calling him at work. Afraid it was because the baby was coming early, he signalled to Rick that he’d catch him up. ‘Ali. Are you OK?’
‘Fine. Can you talk?’
Relieved, Jon leaned an elbow on the car roof. ‘Yeah. What’s up?’
‘I work with a woman called Fiona. She does make-up and facials.’
‘The one with the violent husband?’
Alice’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Yeah.’
There was a moment’s silence as each waited for the other to go on.
Alice spoke first. ‘She called me just now. She wants to meet you.’
‘About the husband? Ali, I’d love to sort him out, but there are trained officers she can speak to in the Domestic Violence-’
‘She thinks she heard someone being killed last night.’
‘What?’
‘She thinks she heard someone being killed last night.’
‘Where?’
‘In the room next to hers. She was staying in some run-down motel in Belle Vue.’
Jon cupped a hand over his ear to hear more clearly. ‘You said Belle Vue?’
Forty minutes later he found himself sitting with another coffee. He thought back to Rick reaching for the chocolate powder, then changing his mind. Strangely self-conscious behaviour.
As his eyes scanned the people passing the window, he searched his memory for the one time he’d met Fiona. It was a few years ago when the salon staff were out celebrating Melvyn’s birthday. Jon was coming off a late shift and had agreed to pick Alice up at the end of the night.
When he’d arrived at the wine-bar he could see the evening had been a good one. Empty bottles littered the table and they were all sitting around with pissed looks on their faces. Jon had taken a seat next to Melvyn and Alice. On spotting him, Melvyn introduced everyone, then instantly reached for a bottle of wine and began filling a glass.
‘Just a small one,’ Jon had smiled, his outstretched hand palm down.
‘Bollocks. Get a taxi,’ Melvyn replied, filling it right up.
Jon shook his head, the grin still on his face. ‘It’ll take hours to catch you lot up and this place shuts in ten minutes.’
Alice had slumped against his shoulder and was fumbling with a packet of cigarettes as she resumed an earnest discussion with Melvyn about who was the sexiest, Ewan McGregor, Johnny Depp or Keanu Reeves.
God, she’s going to be hung over in the morning, Jon thought, lighting one for himself and looking around. Fiona was at the other end of the table, clutching a glass of wine, deep in a serious-looking conversation with the woman at her side.
Jon had found himself studying her. She should have been quite a glamorous woman but something was marring the impression. Her face was pleasantly proportioned, no single feature standing out as wrong. Her light brown hair had been professionally cut and styled, probably by Melvyn, Jon had guessed. She was wearing a pale blue cashmere top, the neckline cut just low enough to show off a glittery necklace.
But everything was being undermined by something. Ready to look away the moment her eyes turned towards his, he scrutinised her more closely. Was it her eyebrows? Had she plucked them a little too vigorously? Applied liner at a slightly harsh angle?
Finally it came to him. The negative impression wasn’t as a result of any single feature, it was more the expression on her face. The lines at the corners of her eyes and at the edges of her mouth all emphasised it. They slanted downwards and the skin along her jawline seemed loose and somehow tired.
Her face hinted at the slow and cumulative effects of pain. He’d seen a similar drawn look appear on his granddad’s face as the cancer really began to take hold. Jon was just wondering what was eating her when something caused alarm to flicker in her eyes.
He looked to his right and saw a heavy man standing just inside the door. His arms were crossed and a large belly pressed out over his belt. He nodded towards the door and Jon spotted a set of car keys hanging from one hand.
Fiona started scrabbling around for her handbag, hurriedly saying goodbye to the colleague she’d been talking to. Her movement was picked up by Melvyn and he glanced round for an explanation. Seeing the man by the door, he called out sarcastically, ‘Jeff! Good to see you. Joining us for a quick one?’
The man stayed exactly where he was and shook his head.
‘Yeah, and fuck you, too,’ Melvyn muttered.
Fiona was now standing, agitation and embarrassment on her face. ‘See you all on Monday,’ she said, struggling slightly with her words.
Melvyn got up and hugged her, then watched with a pained expression as she lurched across the bar and out the door. Jon looked around and saw similar emotions on everyone else’s face.
Melvyn sat back down with a sigh. ‘Fucking arsehole.’
‘That’s Fiona’s other half?’ Jon asked.
His question had gone unanswered as they all broke into conversations about why she stayed with him.
A woman walked through the coffee shop doors. She was wearing a strange mish-mash of clothes, her hair was down over her forehead and she tried to keep her head bowed as she glanced quickly round the room. Their eyes met. Simultaneously recognising her and seeing the damage to her face, Jon held up a hand.
She moved towards him. ‘How did you know it was me?’
‘We were introduced once. I was picking Alice up from the pub. You were there with the other staff from the salon.’ She was looking blankly at him. ‘Jesus, you really were pissed.’ He touched the scar above his own eyebrow and smiled. ‘Besides, Alice said we had something in common.’
Her eyes dropped in embarrassment and Jon cursed his clumsy attempt at breaking the ice.
‘What else did she say about me?’ she asked.
He chose his words more carefully. ‘Not a lot. Just that your husband gives you a hard time.’
She sat down, lit a cigarette and looked him in the eyes. ‘My soon to be ex-husband.’
Jon hoped so, but he’d heard that line plenty of times before. Abusive relationships fought hard to keep their participants in place. ‘I can put you in touch with specially trained officers. Start the ball rolling to make sure he can’t come near you again.’
She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but it’s OK.’
‘Where are you staying?’ said Jon, eyes straying hungrily to the smoke curling from the tip of her cigarette.
‘Sorry, would you like one?’ She held the pack out.